


352. after a storm

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [185]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: The new year hasn't even started yet, but people are setting off fireworks anyways.





	

From this high up, you can trick yourself into thinking that the stars are closer than they are. Helena found this window at the top of the house a few days ago, when she was wandering. Now she’s sitting here. Somewhere below her people are setting off new-year fireworks already – she likes it, the hope of it. The way they sound like gunshots, but only fire off light.

Also below her: her family. She can’t see them from here. She can hear them, faintly, just in pieces. _And then you – stupid bloody – can’t wait for – should have seen her face_. Helena was down there earlier, but sometimes it makes her tired to keep being wide-eyed and surprised and grinning. She doesn’t really know how to be anything else. Sometimes when she is in new places she’s all folded in on herself, and quiet, but her family knows her too well for that now. She can’t really play that anymore. So she doesn’t know who to be.

More fireworks go off from nearby houses. The cheering is ripped at the edges, like paper. Helena laces her fingers together. It’s somewhere around 11. 11:08, maybe, if she had to guess.

“There you are,” says Sarah’s voice from behind her. “There’s no one down there to stop Alison from tellin’ that story about the deer, y’know.”

“Was rabbit,” Helena says absentmindedly, without looking away from the window. “Also she missed.”

“I know,” Sarah says agreeably. She settles down next to Helena, makes a big show of looking out the window and not staring. “Doesn’t stop her from tellin’ it, though.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Maybe if she tells it now she won’t tell it during the new year at all.”

Helena just snorts, and Sarah lets out a small _heh_ of a laugh. “Yeah,” she says. “That’s about what I thought.”

Helena rolls her head on her neck to look at Sarah. The early fireworks are lighting up her face, splashes of faint green and pink and red dripping down her cheekbones. “Hell of a year,” Helena’s sister says absentmindedly.

“Yes,” Helena says. “Much hell. Glad to see it going.”

“Next year,” Sarah says to the window. “Gonna be better. We’re all together now, yeah? It’ll be – good.”

“There were good things this year too,” Helena says. She gnaws on her lip for a second. “I met you.” Pause. “And – my other _sestra_ s, also. A whole family.”

That makes Sarah look at her, considering. “Glad you’re here with us,” she says. “Even if you’re up here.”

“I will come back down. Soon.”

“I know,” Sarah says. She shifts towards the window again, folds her arms tight to her chest. “I keep thinking that once it’s over all this shite’ll just – go, yeah? Everything’ll be buried. All the nasty shit we went through. All…” (she flips a hand through space) “gone.”

“I don’t think that is how calendars work, _sestra_ ,” Helena says cautiously.

“Shut up,” Sarah says with a bit of a laugh, “I know how bloody calendars work, meathead.”

“In the new year you can make a promise to never call me this.”

“Dunno, think you’d miss it.”

“Maybe,” Helena says, smiling softly despite herself. She looks down at her hands. _Boom_ go the fireworks, harmlessly, and her fingertips spray red for a second before it’s gone again. “The bad things won’t go away,” she says, voice so quiet it’s probably almost inaudible. “They just go further. But. They are still there.”

“I know,” Sarah says again. She sounds more exhausted this time. “I just like thinkin’ it. Did it when I was a kid too. Thought my bloody report cards would go up in smoke once the ball dropped.” She laughs to herself, at herself. Helena doesn’t have any stories that match Sarah’s story, so she doesn’t offer one. Instead she just scoots over and bumps her shoulder against Sarah’s. Sarah leans against Helena’s shoulder, the weight of her warm.

“It will be good,” Helena says. “I’ve seen it.”

“You promise?” Sarah says. Here is a promise: Helena will never tell anyone about the way Sarah’s voice wavers, just a little bit.

“Yes,” Helena says. “I promise.”

Sarah sighs, the sound like wind, and that is an answer. There doesn’t need to be another answer: just this, the two of them, sitting here by this window and watching all the mistimed fireworks go off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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